Foreigner and Gaijin
by Yui Miyamoto
Summary: [Gravitation / Tokyo Babylon crossover] Ryuichi goes to Japan on a surprise visit only find himself surprised by the one person he expected least.
1. Part 1

**Fandom: (Crossover) Gravitation and Tokyo Babylon  
Title Foreigner and Gaijin.  
Pairing: Ryuichi + ?  
Rating: PG  
Description: Ryuichi goes to Japan on a surprise visit only find himself surprised by the one person he expected least****.**

**Disclaimer: Yui does not own any of the manga described below. Just know that she is in love with it. The extent? You may not want to know****.****  
**  
**Foreigner and Gaijin.  
By miyamoto yui**

**Part 1 - let it be one of those days that he lets someone in****.****  
**  
Japan is where I was born, but it wasn't where I lived my life.  
America is where I live, but it wasn't where I was born into the world.

Either place I go to offers me no comfort. I am not "American" with my accent, even with the perfect English in this eclectic city I call my residence. It is called Los Angeles, Spanish for "The City of Angels". In a sense, maybe it is. It is a haven for those who need to get away from somewhere else, whether inside your mind or outside of a country.  
It is a place where I have seen heaven and hell clash with the construct of its buildings and the people that make up their own hierarchy. City of Angels is a good name for this city.

All over the world, they think that Hollywood is all about glamour. "Have you seen any movie stars?" is a common thing I get. They do not know that in the country where I was born, I am counted among the stars that fell from this heaven. Here, I am an ordinary citizen, and that is all right with me.

However, there are times when I am treated less than that. It is not something that I like to share, and yet it is a reality that I must face.

My accent, no matter how long I've stayed here, will never go away. It is something that I do not deny, and it is something that I am proud of. I was born from a beautiful country, but of course, everyone thinks that in some way, no matter what course of life they've taken. No matter the various tortures, there is still that secret flower that blooms with hope within the memories. It lives deep within everyone.  
It is my accent that I wear as this flower, as much as some would love to become "true native speakers". But if you talk to any linguist, anyone learning a foreign language will never achieve true native speaker fluency. Only those belonging in that culture understand the nuances and all the characteristics of that language.

That's what makes languages so beautiful. And that is why I sing both in Japanese and English. I am neither; I am both, they are me; and I am in these languages by speaking them. Giving a voice to my thoughts, a futile as it may be.

I'm not trying to promote anything exotic as people love to sell in the shops. I always touch fabric in Chinatown and see the same thing sell for two times more some place else, most probably an American shop. "Exotic", it is termed. I say it is individual culture, a very vibrant history in the seams.

Paid. It is paid with blood and sweat. Taken. It is taken with the power of money and business.

Such things exist in the world, sad as that is.

I go downtown today on my bike. Actually, I need to get a suit for Tohma from one of the shops on Wilshire Blvd. It is a gift that I want to give him before I go back to visit him this summer. It is supposed to be one of few gifts to people I will be visiting in Tokyo.  
However, when I approach the counter, the attendants ignore me. It is not an unusual site. What can they say to a man who is thirty-years-old but dresses as if he is ten years younger? A man who has four piercing in one ear and dyed hair.  
It is definitely up to par. I am beyond their scale, whatever that is.

"Excuse me," I said with a polite tone and a smile. A Spanish looking woman turns her head towards me and blinks blankly.  
"I would like to pick up my order," I announce, almost wanting to forget it all together. It is not that I am giving up. I am thoroughly irritated by people's perceptions.

I don't want to dress for people who I don't give a damn about. It's about business, right? Then just give me your service and I don't have to deal with this crap. All you want is my money anyway.

She smirks a bit, as if amused. "You do?" she asks with an impolite tone that shows her uneasiness and contrasts with the fake smile she is trying to give me.  
And yet, I do not lose my cool. I simply tell her, "Yes, you can understand what I am saying here, right?"

Obviously, I can see she is new. If she wasn't, she'd already stop treating me this way. But she shouldn't be treating me this way in the first place.

Impatiently, I smile. I take out one receipt. I take out many receipts after that. I lay them on the counter for her perusal. "Thank you for your service. Please cancel the thirty orders I had."  
When she sees the name, her eyes become wide, but it is too late.

I turn around and say, "Before you work with people, learn how to treat them respectfully. No actually, learn to be one first."

With that, I close the door behind me.

But this is only one of few incidents that I have crossed in my thirty years of existence.  
With this knowledge alone, would the fans who buy my music understand where all these feelings stem from? Yes, they understand the feelings, but I don't let them see the person inside of me, the one who doesn't know who he is. The one that takes on many roles and they are all a part of him, and yet they cannot constrain him into an accurate definition.

When I go to Little Tokyo, I walk around with my shades and my cap marked "BAD" on the front. I just wander from store to store while looking for nothing in particular. I put my hands into my pockets and lean forward to look at displays, especially that of different kinds of breads.  
I go in. Bakeries are my weakness. Sweets are something that person loved and Tohma too. I adapted this trait from them when it seems that I should have been the one to influence them instead.

With a smile, I point at an eclair. I buy it and still wander around the various restaurants in the Village. There is even a karaoke shop up in a buffet and I wonder if one of my songs is in there. But still, I move on through the cramped space even though there aren't very many people. It is a weekday, after all.  
I wonder if the moms think I'm some delinquent ditching school. Maybe that isn't such a far-fetched idea. I get my attention when I am up on the stage with my sweat pouring down, a smile on my face, and a voice carrying the vision of the world that I have.

It is only here that I feel that I am comfortable. Music doesn't have the stupid boundaries of who belongs or not. You're the one who sets the rules.

You live, love, and die with them too.

I go through the bookstore and flip through the manga. I want to buy a stack like I did last time, but as soon as I am going to, someone recognizes my face from one of the magazines in her hands. I run away.

I find it funny that it is not my own blood relatives that love me. It is these people who listen to my cries of isolation and wishes.

Even though they do not know it, I have told much of my memories and my thoughts. They know me better than anyone could. I feel well-cared for here, in this realm.

Outside of it, I am alone. I am fighting the world inside and outside of myself. Though I recognize that Nuriko and Tohma are there, and that person too…

I still am by myself. It is weird to say that I like being by myself and yet I like to go into crowds of people on the street without talking to them. This tells me I am alive. And I only gain a voice to speak in the world when I sing.

As I read one shoujo manga, I recollect something that is very hazy. It is a memory that I don't want to remember, but am forced to when I look at one of the panels. It is a panel where one little boy is crying after his classmates have teased him.  
I finally recognize what I have picked up. It is the life of Nanjo Koji, one of the idols that influenced me to not forget the pain of searching for identity, but to make it into art.

That art is music: Splattered with blood, sung with notes, rising to heaven, touching more than the sun ever can.

I remembered visiting Kyoto one time when I was little. One of my grandmother's friends had whispered into my ear, "That _is_ your father, right?"  
I wasn't kidding. My elder was the one who asked me in such a rude way.  
"Your face isn't Japanese," another old woman said.  
"You're too Americanized," yet another chimed in.

People assumed you thought you were too good for them by that time, even though you were too young to protest against anything. So, how was I supposed to view the elders that were supposed to guide me? I didn't.

I made my own rules from then on. If I didn't, I wouldn't have survived.  
And years later, I couldn't feel anything but pity for people like that. It wasn't out of kindness, though.  
It was out of practicality.

I couldn't remember their faces, but their words rang deep into my heart like a loud temple bell that was clear with its resounding nature.

I didn't look "American". I didn't look "Japanese". Then, where did I fall in?  
I was mistaken for many things except what I was born as. Only few could really tell. Especially in a place that only recognized few Asian countries, you were grouped with the Japanese, Chinese, or Koreans. They never bothered to learn Cambodian, Filipino, Vietnamese, Laotian, Indonesian, Hmong…

This may have seemed strange, but I wasn't particularly annoyed by this personally. I was upset that only very few could distinguish the individual characteristics.  
But taken from a positive outlook, I was all and I was none.

I didn't belong anywhere. And the idea was starting to become a reality that made me happy. I had a special freedom that way.

The next day, I fly to Tokyo. I don't bother to call Tohma that I am in and reporting for special duty. I would give him a hard time just because I felt like it.

Instead, I go to a tall, white apartment building. With no shame, I am let in by a resident and I go up the elevator with butterflies in my stomach, hoping that he is there. You never know. It didn't matter if I called or not, it wouldn't have made a difference.

He just listens to the answering machine anyway. He's anti-social that way.

He's the reflection of the self that I didn't want to show to the world, enclosed in a room like a recluse, only coming out when needed. Forgetting time and mentalities.

Not particularly fighting or accepting humanity in its waking state.

I lift up my hand to knock on the door with my knuckles. I look down at my red sleeveless shirt and black jeans, hoping that he'd open the door.

Today…let it be one of those days that he lets someone in…  
Knock, knock, knock.

If he can read my mind or if someone hears my prayers, a smile starts to crack on my face as the door widens in its opening. The person behind the door does not even utter a word before I jump happily into his arms.  
But, as a result, we fall to the ground and the door closes behind us.

"Ack." He plainly says as I take off my backpack, but I still sit on his stomach, looking down at his lonesome eyes. It has been a long time since I've looked at this god.

He is used to me. In fact, he just sighs as deeply as he is able to with pursed lips as he looks up at me.  
"I'm glad to see you too," he sarcastically comments.

But I drink in his features. I am enchanted, as with everyone that comes towards him, like the trees that line that of Ueno Park.

The boy I met years ago looks older than me now. His eyes have matured since their innocence seeped away in tears. And yet, I could not kiss any of them. I could not comfort him…

I catch myself before he notices that I am becoming a bit serious. I always have to.

Before I get up, I lean down to kiss his cheek. Then, I stand up while he gets up with blushing cheeks and a disgruntled pout of disapproval. "What brings you back here? Another concert?"  
He goes to the kitchen to pour me some coffee.

As he does so, I pinch his waist. "You NEVER eat, do you? Just like your sister said all the time."  
"Ow," he says as he winces. I don't know if it is because of the comment or if I've pinched too hard.

In either case, I've overstepped my boundaries. As always.

I let go, but he becomes quiet all over again as I stand near him. I answer, "Yes, there is a promotion concert for the new single."  
"A single that you have not even recorded yet, have you?" he asks knowingly.

He used to come, after all. He used to sit and listen to me. It was the only time he'd pay attention to me, and my starvation for his affection was only too foolish to comply to a moment's happiness.

Without thinking, I find myself closing my eyes as I stand behind him. I wrap my arms around his waist like I always do. I smile, but with my eyes closed so he doesn't see the tears that want to fall. Whether they are for me or for him or for both, I do not know.

But this is a gesture I am used to doing with him. No one else is allowed, but maybe that person…when there used to be two…

I hold his cold body as I whisper into his ear in my cheerful voice, "Why don't you help me with the  
recording?"

It is torture not to seduce him. But even by this stage, Tohma would always give in to me. Even the stone-hearted business man had a limit.  
But not you. No, even if I did seduce you, you won't answer me. You're too focused on other things, on another person.

I know this, and yet I still come back for-

"You're always so impulsive," he retorts as he pours out the coffee and mixes it with milk and sugar.  
Unlike other people, my charm has no effect on him.

And he is the only one that counts.

Today, I am not too genki. I cannot hold in my masks within me. I hold him tighter and quietly say to his ear, "Please come with me, Subaru."

**Tsuzuku****… / To be continued…**

**Author****'****s notes:** I have split this into two fics for the pure purpose of trying to emphasize different foci.

Gaijin is just the Japanese world for foreigner.


	2. Part 2

**Fandom: (Crossover) Gravitation and Tokyo Babylon  
****Title: Foreigner and Gaijin.  
Pairing: Ryuichi + Subaru  
Rating: PG  
Description: Ryuichi goes to Japan on a surprise visit only find himself surprised by the one person he expected least****.****  
**  
**Disclaimer: Yui does not own Gravitation. "Anata" is L****'****arc en ciel****'****s but ****"****mahout****"**** is of my own creation. Tokyo Babylon isn****'****t mine either.**

**Foreigner and Gaijin.  
By miyamoto yui**

**Part 2 - separately, but forward.**

No one knows how much I am tired of looking at the same things. I want to go beyond what I am. That is why I travel all over the place, in search of an answer to a question that I do not yet know.

It sparkled within him. I didn't know why, but it did. You just knew when you looked at certain people. A click went off in the abyss that we called "ourselves". And for me, when I first looked into those green eyes full of conviction, I knew there was something that I needed to ask, even though the question did not exactly come to my lips.

I met him when Tohma told me to go on a double date with him. He and I were an odd couple that way.  
Together, and yet it wasn't enough to keep us truly together. Strange, yes, but we saw other people. One of those people that he became very fond of was a girl named Hokuto. She brought her little brother with her.

I raised my eyebrow to him as he blushed crimson, unable to speak one word. By that alone, I was already smirking. It wasn't that I wanted to corrupt him, but that I couldn't believe there was someone that adorable in the world. When I talked to him about what he did, the more I understood what true kindness was. Could anyone be as innocent as that?

And yes, there is. I am holding onto him for dear life at this very moment.

He still doesn't understand how important he is. How significant he is beyond his shigoto and the position that he holds. I've been trying to tell him.

Then, as I am about to let go, he shakes his head. Softly, he smiles and nods. "That would be something different."  
He turns his head while handing me the coffee cup. "I want to go."

And we do.  
We know how the other is. We have been friends ever since he was fifteen, after all. In our lines of business, we are grateful that there is someone who is unrelated to anything to do with that. And yet, we understand each other all the same, even if we come from different worlds. We are a weird combination, but who cared?

As we enter the studio with the keys that Tohma gave me a long time ago, he randomly says, "It's your birthday in a few weeks, isn't it?"  
"And yours passed a few days ago, didn't it?" I pose the question back to him.

We both can't believe the other has remembered. We never really bothered with stuff like that.

He sits in one of the chairs and I sit next to him. He looks at all the equipment while I watch him.  
There are flickers of his childish self coming out. Even though he is trying to stay stoic and unfeeling, I can see the traces of his old self.  
It makes me happy, but I still love the person in front of me. Falling deeper into him.

"She used to be so loud when we came here," he started to laugh, unable to contain himself.

I roll my eyes. "Geez, that girl…you'd think that Nuriko and her were twins with the way they worked everyone. And Hokuto-chan wasn't even part of the staff!"  
"Well, that's her for you."  
"But why did you come with her? You didn't have to." This slips out before I am able to hold the words back. It is a thought that has constantly plagued my mind and eats away at it, but never comes to anything. It just leads to more decay.

I would stare at him whenever he came. It came to the point that I could not look at him in the eye sometimes because I knew I wouldn't stop gazing at him so admiringly. Tohma made fun of me for it, but I didn't care.  
"The only thing I _can_ do _is_ stare," I retorted once.  
Tohma never teased me again. It hit hard. Everything did when it came to anything relating to Eiri…

He gets up and puts his hands on the glass door before the actual recording booth. He gazes at the microphone under the lights and a lonely gaze worms its way onto his face so naturally. It is like the night after the sun has set.  
"I like the way you sing."

I open my eyes widely. I didn't ever think that I had that effect on him. After all, he was in love with Seishirou-san and all. It pained me every time I heard or saw that they were together…  
To the point that I found my confident self crying alone in my room.

"You did? Could have fooled me." My tone reveals that I am a bit spiteful and a little resentful. It is all in disbelief, but I couldn't find myself joking with him over the matter. I had asked him and this was my answer.  
Why am I not happy with that?

His eyes glance at me, but he doesn't turn his head.  
I stare at his profile and his whole body. He looks like an ice sculpture, melting while pressing the glass before him to get out of the shape the world has made him out to be. He is trying to break what he has made himself.

With a slightly embarrassed smile, his eyes look at the ground. "I was the Nittle Grasper fan, not my sister. I was the one that got her into it. She brought me along because I had this big crush on you, but would never admit it."

I sit in my seat. I pinch myself to make sure I am awake. I am stupid that way.  
I continue to look at him, unable to really hear what he is saying to me.

There is no one else inside of his mind, soul, or heart. No one but Seishirou-san or Hokuto-chan. I know that very well.

I've tried to kiss him before. It was the time that Seishirou-san left him, for reasons that I never knew about, but it affected him so much that he did a 180. Subaru became more withdrawn into himself. I couldn't stand watching him that way because it reminded me of myself.

All I know is that Seishirou-san told me to sing more, but not to forget my place. What did that mean…? I am unafraid by his warning.

"Tell me why you listened." I get up from my seat.

"Because…"  
The beautiful eyes that have looked so emotionless for years are filled with tears. He doesn't turn to me. Instead, he finishes, "Because I felt like you were talking to me. That someone knew exactly how I felt about everything."

He smiled as he finally turned his head to me. "That's why I was so embarrassed when I saw you for the first time. Hokuto-chan tricked me, but I couldn't thank her enough. So, I was eternally contracted to wear whatever she made for me from then on."

I walk over to him, wanting to run. As I grab his face in between my hands, I close my eyes. Someone has heard my prayer after all these years.

Even though I didn't start out talking to you, after I met you, I did. Every song was trying to reach the person that I thought didn't ever hear me. And right now, I am grateful.

This is not the love I want from you, but it is enough. It is more than you can ever know.

I begin to sing the song I recorded for him on a cassette. It is L'arc en ciel's "Anata":  
"Nemurenakute mado no tsuki wo miageta, omoeba ano hi kara…"

Even though I never sang it again from that time on, it wasn't that I didn't want to, it was because it was too special.  
Too perfect. Too honest.

The singer sang everything that I wanted to say to Subaru, and I felt that I was insufficient for a while.

When I take him home, I hug him as tightly as I can. It is starting to rain as I throw my bag into the cab. I wave at him as he nods his head at the window. But as I am about to turn around completely, he lifts up a cassette in front of him.

It was the one that I gave him. The one I had recorded years ago.

I smile as the tears merge with the rain before me. I wave goodbye and get into the cab. I don't bother to go to surprise Tohma. I need one more year to build myself before facing them again.

You are the reason why I have been able to push more.  
You are the living form of my hope, Subaru, even though you do not know it.

That's why I know you need to find Seishirou-san. It is because he is the only one who can complete you, as you have done for me.

That's why I am always able to sing, despite the cruelties of this world.

Always striving to be better. Always thinking that no one would understand me, especially the person I loved most in the world. And yet, I did.

Even though it is only a little bit, only for a little while.

And I feel deep inside the stirring for an answer has been washed away. The pain is still there, but I know it is something that is only unique to me and me alone.

Through my songs, I have made an identity that transcends any kind of mental construct. It somewhat mends the things that I cannot change about the world and about myself.

I guess I fell in love with you because…  
Because…

I cannot describe it anymore. I just feel it because you're a part of me.

_"Mahou__"__  
By Sakuma Ryuichi_

_There was once, once upon a time, when I thought the world was dead.  
The look in your eyes was gone.  
When I looked at the ground, there were people all over the streets,  
And I would continue to walk, not knowing what to do._

_Then, there were demons that possessed people__'__s minds for a while,  
But you couldn__'__t do anything about their hearts.  
Despite all this, I could still look at you,  
And you still kept the light,_

_dim as it was, maybe I__'__m imagining things,  
You and I have seen many things from this world,  
And yet we still continue to walk without wavering.  
Separately, but forward._

_But if you could look deep inside of me,  
You would find that I am empty.  
The day you smiled at me  
Was the day I cut open my heart  
Just for you to keep._

_I didn__'__t care if it was unreasonable, foolish, or selfish;  
That was the time I understood what __"__truth__"__ meant  
For the first time._

_Even though people look at me as if I__'__m crazy,  
Even though you don__'__t speak a word of the atrocities,  
We still carry on, separately, but firmly._

_But if you could look deep inside of me,  
(the magic that you__'__ve given)  
You would find that I am empty.  
(filled with so many sad memories)  
The day you smiled at me  
(__"__I need you__"__ couldn__'__t come to my lips)  
Was the day I cut open my heart  
(Because I wasn__'__t carrying the burden alone)  
Just for you to keep.  
(For only you could understand.)_

The end of the lyric booklet says:

Identity isn't about finding the words to describe yourself,  
it's about accepting them.

Accepting all of it. And then transcending them, despite all the tragedies and good fortune.

That's why I always sing about the light. It cannot be contained to one place, time, or thing. We are unidentifiable to anyone around us and ourselves, but that is okay. We are privileged that way.

And so, there is always hope. And you are the living presence of that in the world.

This is the vision we have always shared, through our pain.

-signed,  
Ryu

**Owari. / The End.**

**Author****'****s note:** Unlike other Gravitation fics that I have written, I wanted the focus for this one to be totally different. Just like with "kikoeru ka" and the subject of anxiety attacks, I wanted to delve into subjects that are very prevalent in society. I do not like it either, but it is a reality that makes me sad whenever I have to witness it, whether or not I am directly addressed or just a passerby.  
However, I wanted to give this piece to you not as a political statement or anything of that sort, but to say that you don't have to find an answer so soon. An answer to you who you are. I wanted to capture why I loved Tokyo Babylon and Gravitation, or at least just some of the things. I also wanted to do something that may be rare in itself.  
I do understand it is a touchy subject and is approached in an odd way. It is not, however, a read that is to be felt with sorrow, but one of awareness. So thank you for sticking it out and reading until the end.  
Because Gravi and TB has always inspired me to be a better person (which I think this was about the time I fell in love with them 3 years ago), I wanted to show my appreciation for them. And why it opened my eyes to the confidence I never knew within myself as a human being, as a writer, as myself.

Identity isn't a matter of words. It's the feeling deep within.

So again, thank you for reading.

Love, yui

Translation:  
"Nemurenakute mado no tsuki wo miageta, omoeba ano hi kara…" -  
"And not being able to sleep,  
I looked at the moon at my window.  
If I can remember, because of/from that day…"

**Friday, May 21, 2004**


End file.
